Saturday morning, we woke up to bright and sunny skies. Bill’s ankle was still throbbing from his little mishap Friday morning. We were still determined to get out and enjoy the beautiful weather. After breakfast, we took the boys on the same walk we took the day prior, only we kept going a ways. We climbed up a long hill, cheered on by a marauding dog at the top of a wall who was desperate to protect his territory.
That dog meant business!
When we finally reached the top of the hill, we were greeted by a tiny, toothless, old Italian lady dressed all in black. She smiled and offered a greeting, then engaged us (well, really, Bill) in a lengthy conversation. She did not speak any English and we don’t speak Italian, but I’d studied enough Spanish to understand some of what she was saying. Bill was gamely trying to respond to her as she rattled on about how the people in Domaso are nicer than the people in Milan.
I stood there in amazement because the conversation lasted several minutes with neither party being conversant in the other party’s language. I gazed up the hill and noticed another lady standing on a terrace watching the whole thing. The old lady who was talking to us obviously knew the other lady and called up to her to tell her we were visitors. It turned out the lady was standing on the terrace of Sorsasso, Domaso’s well-regarded agritourism restaurant and shop. Because you have to make reservations, we never did get a chance to visit there. If we ever get back to Domaso, we will have to make a point of having dinner there.
After bidding the friendly local lady goodbye– and she thanked us for listening to her– we strolled to the end of the road where we captured a more stunning pictures of the enchanting landscape. Really, I could spend all day simply taking in the beauty of this little town, watching the people, and drinking wine. That’s pretty much what I did, too.
After a short rest, we decided to go down to the lake without the dogs. On the way back into town, we passed a grandmother taking her toddler aged granddaughter for a walk. The lady was smiling and singing to the girl. Bill said I got a huge delighted grin on my face as we passed them. He said, “You love Italy, don’t you?” Yes… yes I do! I also love Germany, although I have to admit I am always charmed by how friendly the Italians are.
Domaso has a nice beach area and, we soon discovered, it’s a very popular place to camp. There’s also a great youth hostel there, located right next to the water and offering cheap, basic rooms.
A charming sight on the walk down to the main drag.
I took this picture of Bill noting that there was evidently a Scottish wedding going on behind that wrought iron fencing. There were guys in kilts standing outside the city hall. I never thought I’d see guys in kilts in Italy. On the other hand, why not?
In Italy, you have to pick up your dog’s poop…
Domaso also has a shop where one can buy wine on tap. We didn’t venture into this business because we ran out of time. Maybe if we happen to go back to Domaso we’ll visit.
The kilted ones again.
After about an hour of strolling, it got to be time for lunch. I was really in the mood for lasagna. Alas, we fell victim to a very charming and assertive restaurant hawker who lured us to his terrace. Lasagna was not on the menu at Ristorante da Mario. I see his place doesn’t get the best reviews on Trip Advisor, but we managed to enjoy lunch there anyway. It’s hard to get a bad meal in Italy.
Bill is laughing because the guy who lured us– I presume it was Mario himself– kept speaking to us in German. He gave us German menus, even though he had ones in English. His wife (again, I presume), spoke English and picked up that we are not German. Mario never got a clue, though! We were repeatedly mistaken for Germans this past weekend. It was actually kind of funny.
I had noodles with Bolognese sauce. These were pretty good, especially when paired with a nice wine. We asked for sparkling water, but Mario brought us still water.
Bill had fish with risotto. The risotto was very good– not gummy or sticky. And the fish was well-prepared.
For dessert, we had lovely tiramisu. Bill’s piece was noticeably bigger than mine was, but that’s okay.
This lunch went for about 45 euros. Although it wasn’t the lasagna I really wanted, it was fine. We definitely made up for the experience at Mario’s later, when we ventured out for dinner. More on that in the next post.